Latin Hetalia Femslash and Het Weeks

Here are a few Latin Hetalia drabbles for the tumblr-proclaimed Femslash Week and Het Week. Enjoy!

Bikini Bottoms | Fem!Brazil/Fem!Argentina | PG-13

Daylight was burning, but Martina hadn't gotten the message. Or maybe she had, and she was just doing this to piss Luciana off. It wouldn't have been the first time she'd pulled a stunt like this, but Martina hadn't been giving off any today's a good day to be a bitch vibes when they'd first arrived at the beach.

But that was ten minutes ago, and now Luciana wasn't so sure. Everyone knew that Martina was the vainest prima donna this side of the equator, but what could she possibly have been doing in the changing room for this long? Well, okay, Luciana could think of a few really good things, but they all involved her being in there, too. Sadly, Luciana was up to a distinct lack of shenanigans, unless you counted standing under a tree while trying not to look like you were awkwardly waiting for someone as 'shenanigans'.

Enough was enough. She strode into the glorified lean-to and knocked on the door of Martina's stall.

"Did you die in there or what?" She asked loudly enough that someone behind one of the doors at the other end of the tiny building choked on a giggle.

"Just - I'll be out in a minute," Martina replied. If Luciana bent her neck far enough, she could make out her pale, bare calves through the space under the door. They were smooth and soft, and they would look much better flecked with sand from the beach than loitering in this smelly shack.

"I'm coming in," Luciana announced approximately one nanosecond before she crouched on the grimy floor and shimmied under the door. She grinned up at Martina's livid eyes and pink cheeks and really hoped she wouldn't get kicked in the face.

"What the hell are you doing?" Martina hissed through gritted teeth, crossing her arms in front of her abdomen as if she were uncomfortable, which was just silly because she was wearing a bikini and Luciana had seen her in far less clothing.

"I'm saving you from your reflection; I know how easy it is for you to get lost in it." She straightened up and took a step closer to Martina. "Seriously, what have you been doing in here? I mean, you've got your suit on. Let's go."

Her fingertips barely grazed Martina's arm when Martina flinched away with her lips twisted in guilt, and then anger. "You are such a bitch," she growled. "Why didn't you say something?"

Luciana's mouth dropped. "That's rich coming from you! And I did tell you I was coming in." Even if she hadn't given her much notice.

"No, that's not-"

"Okay, stop." This time Luciana's hand settled on one of Martina's forearms, and she used the grip to drag her closer. "We are not having one of those weird conversations where I have no idea what we're actually talking about. Now, tell me why you're taking so long."

Martina's eyes avoided her gaze, flickering from one corner of the cramped stall to the next, and then she looked down at Luciana's feet and muttered, "It doesn't fit."

"What?"

"It doesn't-" Martina cut herself off by biting her lip. She pulled her other arm away from her belly and ran her thumb along the edge of her sky-blue swimsuit bottom where it dug into her flesh.

"Are you kidding me?" Martina would have shrieked if she weren't trying so hard to keep her voice low, pushing Luciana off her and poking at her own hips. "Look at this! Why didn't you tell me I was gaining weight?"

With spread hands, Luciana reached for Martina's hips and dragged her closer again, pressing her fingers into the soft, pliant flesh. "I guess I didn't notice. The suit still fits fine, so it's not a problem, right?"

Martina squirmed in her grip, but Luciana held tight, saying, "So you've been...indulging a little more than usual lately-" Martina smacked her on the back of her head, but she ignored the abuse and continued. "-but that's a good thing, right? You needed a little more meat on your bones." She buried her face in the crook of Martina's neck and exhaled so that Martina shivered against her humid breath. "You look good like this."

"Are you saying I didn't look good before?" Martina countered, dropping her hands from where they had been awkwardly hanging in the air to settle on Luciana's waist.

"See, I was expecting you to say, 'Are you calling me fat?'" Luciana murmured against her skin, inhaling a mixture of sunblock and citrus.

"Are you looking for a fight?" Martina asked, but Luciana could already tell that her words were all bluster from the way she was relaxing into her arms.

"Mm," Luciana sighed. "You know, we don't have to go outside if you really don't want to. There's plenty to do right here." She eased a thigh between Martina's and punctuated her words by rocking up against her. "And you won't even need to wear your swimsuit."

"You-!" Martina's squeak was a little breathy, and while Luciana had only been trying to tease her, she suddenly wondered what other pretty sounds she could drag out of her like this.

She hid her mild disappointment behind a nuzzle when Martina muttered, "We can go out now. I guess."

With one last squeeze of her hips and a soft, wet kiss against her cheek, Luciana released her and stepped back with a smile. "You really do look beautiful," she said, and grinned even wider when Martina's cheeks colored.

Martina made a poorly disguised attempt at biting back her pleased smile before giving and letting it spread across her face. That didn't stop her from pinching Luciana when she said, "The beach awaits, my princess," as she held open the door, but when Martina strode passed, Luciana was granted a glorious eyeful of her ass, so they were even.

As they stepped out into the bright sunlight, Luciana snapped the elastic of one of the leg holes of Martina's snug bikini bottoms, laughing at Martina's indignant squawk she dashed toward the sea, kicking up sand with every footfall until Martina tackled her in the water. She had just enough time to steal a kiss before a wave crashed over their heads, washing them back to shore in a tumult of salt, sun, skin, and smiles.

Arrivals | Fem!Peru/Fem!Chile | PG

In his mad dash across the crowded hallway, a young boy bumped into Micaela's hip, nearly sending her careening into her luggage. His parents immediately began scolding him to apologize to the nice lady, but Micaela smiled and waved it off. Her smile broadened as she watched the boy jump into the arms of a young man who shared his stub nose and thin lips. Airports were a treasure chest of joyful moments.

She turned back to the bus schedule, scanning down the list until she found her destination. If she hurried, she might still be able to find a seat on the one leaving in ten minutes, but she would probably need to ask one of the nice, young porters standing around for assistance.

"Hey," a familiar voice called from somewhere to her left, dragging her from her thoughts. Amidst a flurry of bustling travelers and teary eyed faces stood Manuela, arms crossed as she tapped her toe impatiently against the tiles.

"You came." Micaela's eyebrows shot up her forehead. "I thought you said you wouldn't."

Manuela frowned as she gave a small shrug. "Well, I wasn't, but then I remembered the mayhem you caused the last time you had to fend for yourself at the airport."

Micaela snorted and tightened her grip on the handle of her largest suitcase. "Mayhem? You were a half hour late, so I made friends with the barrista at the café. It's really a shame she isn't here this time, I could have introduced you." Even from this distance, she could see Manuela's nostrils flare, and well, she really hadn't wanted to start her visit with an argument. Even if it totally wasn't her fault. "So anyway, it's nice to see you! Can you help me with my bags?"

To the average eye, Manuela's face pulled into a grimace, but Micaela didn't have average eyes, so she could see the expression for what it truly was - a pout. A pout, an abrupt toss of short, auburn hair, and a pair of dark, averted eyes.

Her luggage would survive on its own for a minute or two. In three steps she crossed the distance between them, pulling Manuela into a backbreaking hug. Manuela struggled against her, but Micaela didn't relent until she had pressed two wet kisses to her cheeks, dangerously close to the Manuela's lips, leaving behind scarlet lipstick stains.

"What are you doing?!" Manuela growled, her cheeks glowing pink.

"Saying hello," Micaela responded brightly before leaning closer to whisper into her ear, "I missed you so much."

When Manuela was finally able to squirm out of Micaela's grip, she stomped over to the abandoned luggage and grabbed the largest one. "Did you bring your entire closet?" she muttered, turning toward the exit. "Come on, let's go."

Micaela hoisted the other bag over her shoulder and followed, grinning from ear to ear.

Routines | Fem!Uruguay/Fem!Paraguay | PG

Every other weekend, Sebastiana can follow her morning routine for the most part with her eyes closed, simply out of necessity. She wakes up, plucks her glasses from the nightstand, and slides out from under the covers and off the mattress, avoiding any extraneous movements that might disturb the bed's other occupant. Then she tiptoes four paces to the tiny settee where she slips on her powder blue bathrobe, ten more paces around a pile of clothes, out the door, and down the hall to the bathroom where she finally flips on a light and stares blurry eyed at her reflection in the mirror. There's a crack in the corner of the glass that she keeps telling Daniela to fix, though by now she's deemed it a lost cause. It maps a spiderweb fracture over her shoulder when she leans over to reach into the drawer beneath the sink and pulls out a thin headband to hold her hair back from her face. She twists knobs on the faucet and lets the water run until it warms up enough to splash comfortably on her face, rinsing the night mask from her pale skin. Next she lathers up a bar of lemon scented facial soap to wash up, rinsing again before patting her skin dry with the fluffy, yellow towel embroidered with a Tanager sporting indigo feathers and a simple 'S' that hangs from a hook on the wall. After that comes the spray on toner, and as she waits for that to dry, she brushes her teeth.

As Sebastiana is rubbing a light daytime lotion into her skin, Daniela comes stumbling through the bathroom door and sags against her back. Sliding her glasses over the bridge of her nose, Sebastiana glances over her shoulder at Daniela's unruly bedhead.

"Are you even awake?" she asked, pulling the headband off and running a comb through her straight locks.

Daniela's voice is muffled against Sebastiana's bathrobe. "Mmph. Ask me again in ten minutes." She wraps her arms around Sebastiana's waist, slipping one hand between the folds of the robe to grip at her thin, warm, cotton pajama top.

Sebastiana continues brushing her hair with one hand and lays the other atop Daniela's. "You know, you didn't have to get up just yet. Go back to bed for a few minutes. I'll come get you when I'm ready for breakfast."

"'S okay. The bed's lonely without you," Daniela murmurs. "And cold."

"I highly doubt that it was cold. You were under the covers when I left."

Daniela groans. "Stop being logical. I don't get how you can think straight this early in the morning." She leans up to nuzzle into Sebastiana's hair, rubbing her nose through the strands until she reaches the bare skin at the nape of her neck.

Sebastiana jumps in her hold. "Your nose is cold." She feels Daniela's lips spread into a smile against her skin.

"See, I told you so. You should help me warm it up."

With a small sigh, Sebastiana pulls away from Daniela in order to turn around. She cups Daniela's cheek gently and presses a soft kiss to her still smiling lips.

Daniela giggles against her. "You taste minty."

"I just brushed my teeth. Now brush yours so we can go eat breakfast."

Hugging her close, Daniela says, "Yes, ma'am," and nearly knocks Sebastiana's brush into the wastebasket in her sudden enthusiasm to get ready.

Sebastiana only manages to save it using some clever football skills she has picked up over the years, returning it safely to its home in the drawer. Were it a weekday, she would most definitely not be in the mood to put up with such carelessness, but it's the weekend and she's just woken up next to Daniela. She can afford to let some things slide.

She caught him at the worst possible moment. That's what the problem was - she caught him at the worst possible moment, when he was engrossed in the Brazil - France game on TV, so of course he wasn't in the right state of mind for her female mind games.

Any other time she could have picked to come waltzing in wearing a tight, pink dress would have been fine, perfect in fact, but she'd stood next to a television showing football; had she really expected him to pay attention to her? She knew how important football was to him. Hell, her love for the game rivaled his, but her love for herself was even greater.

It wasn't fair. She had this planned.

When she asked, "Luciano, do think this dress looks a little tight? I had a harder time getting the zipper closed today. I think I might have gained a little weight," he knew he was supposed to respond, "You look beautiful. The dress must have just shrunk in the wash." But he was watching the French team dribble the ball closer and closer to the Brazilian goal, so what came out of his mouth was, "Uh, sure, Babe."

He realized immediately that he had. Fucked. Up. And not just because Martina stepped in front of the TV and screeched, "What did you just say?!"

"No, wait!" he backtracked, bringing his hands up in an attempt to placate her and hopefully fend off any swings she might take. "That's not what - it's just, the game's on and you - and I didn't exactly hear you, and - "

"So you weren't listening to me? You think a stupid football game deserves more attention than your girlfriend?"

That had to be a trick question. The last time Argentina played, Martina had forgotten that she was supposed to pick Lu's brother up from the airport, which turned into a huge fiasco that ended with them sending gifts of atonement to Macau for three months, and crap, he was taking too long to respond.

As she bent down to tug her tall, white socks over her calves, Martina glanced behind herself to see Luciano staring slack jawed at her ass.

"So," she said, straightening up and turning around just in time to watch him flick his still unfocused eyes to her face. "The first one to score wins, and the loser gets dish duty for the rest of the week, right?"

Luciano grinned. "Sounds good to me! And no playing dirty."

"Right, no playing dirty."

-

Martina ignored the first time Luciano bumped into her. She didn't say anything the second time, either, because she was being nice and this was a friendly match. Friendly matches weren't supposed to end with black eyes and bruised egos. That didn't stop her from 'accidentally' almost tripping him when he tried to steal the ball from her. But when a stray elbow whacked her in the chest, she gave him a violent shove.

"Fuck, Lu, that hurts."

"Sorry," he replied, dashing back in to kick the ball away from her. This time she did trip him. "What the hell?"

"Get back up and play like a man!" Martina shouted, her eyes blazing like emerald flames. She ran after the ball, leaving Luciano in a cloud of dirt and grass. He scrambled up and chased after her, sending her stumbling as he pushed her out of the way and trapped the ball beneath his foot.

"So you want to play rough, huh?" he said, and then grunted when Martina kicked him in the shin. "What happened to a 'friendly match'?"

"Aww, am I scaring you off?" Martina taunted, grinning wickedly at Luciano. "Are you afraid of losing to a girl?"

"As if!" Luciano took off, making a beeline for the goal with Martina hot on his tail. If he showed even a smidgeon of weakness, she would be all over him, so he kicked the ball in a beautiful arc, one of the greatest the field had ever seen. It sailed past the goal, to the edge of the park and over the road - where it landed in the back of a passing truck.

He turned to Martina and tried for an awkward grin, which he was miraculously able to keep up in the face of her glare. "How about we call it a tie?"

Martina pushed her sweaty bangs out of her face and flipped the end of her pony tail. "You lost the ball, you lost the match. Have fun with those dishes."

"That's not fair!" Luciano protested, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Oh, did you want to lose something else, too?" In contrast with her heaving chest and dirt smeared cheeks, one of Martina's golden eyebrows arched elegantly above her eye, mocking him.

"...not really."

Her smile was distinctly feline. "Good. Hmm, and I think I'll need a massage when we get home. You know, to make up for you staring at my ass earlier."

But she didn't stop him from staring as he followed her off the field.

Reservations (or how not to treat a lady) | Peru/Fem!Chile | PGFor ilye_aru

Miguel's middle finger drags in circles around the lip of his water glass as he stares at Manuela over the pristine, white expanse of the table cloth. Normally he has a bit more tact, but she's busy perusing the menu, so he affords himself this luxury. In the middle of the table, a single candle burns, highlighting Manuela's features with a warm glow. Her dress, black with long sleeves and a hem that falls just above her knees, accentuates the long, lean lines of her body, and her legs seem to go on for kilometers in her pumps, though he can't see them beneath the table. Her lips are cherry red, her eyelids a smoky gray he's never seen her wear before. He wants to tell her how beautiful it makes her eyes look - though they were already so pretty in the first place - but the last time he said something like that, she had turned a violent shade of red and glared out the car window for a full five minutes. And even though he wants to tell her she's beautiful, because it's the truth, he also doesn't want to screw everything up.

When the waiter stops at their table, the pair makes eye contact for a brief second before Miguel grins widely and tells him, "We'll have the duck risotto."

The waiter nods curtly and leaves the couple alone. Miguel turns his smile back to Manuela, only to have it die on his face when he sees her glaring at him with such virulence that he's afraid her eyes might scald his skin off.

"Umm, what'd I do this time?" he asks, smoothing his napkin out on his lap so he doesn't start chewing on his fingernails.

She exhales sharply through her nose. "You think I can't order my own food?"

"Oh, no, no! It's their signature dish; I know you'll love it." He falters a bit when she turns her gaze away. Well, at least she's not glaring at him anymore, but she's not looking at him, either. He follows her line of vision and sees that she's watching a couple swaying on the small dance floor in the corner of the restaurant.

"Would you like to dance?"

"No."

His shoulders slump. The night is quickly derailing from his fantasies. By now she should be completely and utterly smitten, batting her eyelashes and biting her lip, and he should have been able to lean across the table and sneak in a kiss without the threat of getting slapped. But she's not looking at him, and her expression is a steel cage, and she's fidgeting with something in her lap - her hands. She's wringing her hands.

"Manuela?"

She doesn't respond, which isn't necessarily a bad thing.

"Do you want me to call the waiter over so you can change your order?"

She finally, finally turns her eyes back on him. "No," she mumbles. "I don't - I don't mind duck risotto."

"Oh-"

"But." Her voice rises gradually along with the color in her cheeks. "But I am perfectly capable of choosing my own meal."

He blinks at her. "Uh, yeah, of course you are."

"Then why did you-?"

"Hey," he interrupts, leaning across the table to touch her burning cheek with gentle fingertips. "Why don't you choose the dessert for us."

Her eyes follow the length of his arm to his face. "...fine."

There. That wasn't so difficult. He strokes the high ridge of her cheekbone with his thumb before letting go and leaning back in his seat. "Do you know how pretty you are tonight?" he sighs.

She twitches in her seat but doesn't say anything, sliding a lock of hair behind her ear with trembling fingers. It's enough of an answer for now.

There was a movie playing on the TV, but Sebastiana had stopped paying it any attention long ago. Still, she kept her eyes on the screen, only glancing down at Daniel’s hand on her knee when she knew she would not get caught. His fingernails were trimmed close and neat, and there was a small, black pool of blood caught near the cuticle of his thumb. The callouses on the underside of his knuckles scraped her bare skin when he dragged his hand just the slightest amount closer to the hem of her skirt. When she sighed, he tightened his grip just enough to be noticeable. His hand slid on her again, and this time the heel of his palm pushed her skirt barely a centimeter further up her leg.

She turned her head to stare at him, raising an eyebrow in question. He returned her gaze with a sheepish grin.

“Hey,” he said, leaving his hand on her knee.

“Hey.”

“Is this okay?”

Sebastiana shrugged and scooted closer to him until their thighs touched and his hand fell to the inside of her leg. “I would have said something if it weren’t.”

Daniel’s grin widened. He took her confession as an invitation to stroke his hand further up her leg, under her skirt, until he paused mid-thigh, where he rubbed his thumb in tiny circles against her soft skin.

“Is this like one of those children’s games where you see how far you can go before I get uncomfortable?” she asked, shifting a little more to make room for him.

“Are you getting uncomfortable?”

She answered with a kiss, slow and teasing, not letting up even as his fingernails scratched at her skin and his tongue tried desperately to tangle with hers. She leaned into him and sighed deeply when his lips left hers to mouth at her neck just below the hinge of her jaw. Her fingers tangled into his hair and massaged at his scalp as his own traced hot streaks up her inner thigh, finally stopping at the line of her underwear. He pulled his mouth away from her long enough to ask,

“May I?” in a rough, low voice.

“Mmm,” she groaned, nodding as she tugged him up by the hair to plant a searing kiss on his lips. He hesitated a moment before sliding his finger beneath her underwear to stroke at her wetness. They both sighed in twin, shuddering breaths, and then Sebastiana whined into his mouth when he shifted up to press against her clit, twitching her hips against his hand in search of more pressure.

“Tiana,” he whispered against her, “You’re driving me crazy.”

No, it’s the other way around, she wanted to tell him, but with her voice lost somewhere in her throat, she settled for squeezing her eyes shut and hugging him as close as possible, almost tight enough to crush the breath from him if he weren’t already so breathless with want. His fingers against her were insistent, firm, and warm, and when the very tip of one dipped inside her, she bit his lip. She pulled back to gaze down at him, her lids heavy and her chest heaving. He lifted his other hand to fumble with the buttons of her blouse, nearly ripping them apart before she growled in warning.

"Sex," she managed to gasp, "is no excuse to ruin a perfectly good shirt."

"That's no fun." He pressed his grin against the suddenly bare skin of her chest, tracing his tongue along her collar bone and dipping it beneath the edge of her bra to drag over the soft swell of her breasts. His calloused fingers, now slick with her, dipped further inside, massaging her inner walls with long, agonizingly slow strokes. "I know you can fix it."

"That is completely besides the point."

"Why are we still talking?"

"No idea." Sebastiana moaned into his ear as he curled his fingers inside her. "Daniel..."

Pulling his hand away reluctantly, Daniel struggled with the fly of his slacks until Sebastiana's hands settled on his and helped him pull them out of the way. Then they both slid their hands under her skirt and pulled her underwear down her thighs and over her knees until Sebastiana had to squirm around to toe them off. Once more she settled back in his lap, just over his thighs, and with a trembling hand stroked Daniel's already fully erect length.

"I was thinking about you during the movie," he whispered as an explanation, "about this."

Sebastiana shifted until she was hovering above him, her thighs trembling with arousal. "About this?"

"Yes."

They groaned together as she lowering herself onto him, rolling her hips until he was completely enveloped in her heat. He slid a hand behind her neck to pull her in for a kiss, his fingers tangling in the short, silky strands of hair at her nape. His tongue traced the fullness of her lips, slipping inside and petting against her own when she sighed into his mouth. With his other hand, he gripped at her hip, not so much to guide her as to simply ground himself as she rocked and bucked against him.

With each rise and fall of her thighs, she felt herself getting closer and closer to the edge, until she was clenching around him with each downward thrust. Heat and electricity flashed through her limbs and simmered in her belly, making every point of contact with Daniel prickle just beneath her skin. She knew her face must be flushed; it felt like it was burning up, overtaking her senses and thoughts, until all she knew was rushing blood and a haze of fire, until her breath stopped in her chest and she thought she might asphyxiate if she let this go on much longer. Somewhere in the back of her mind she could hear Daniel groaning and feel his fingers tighten against her, probably leaving bruises on her skin. He was hot and perfect against her, and she clutched him to her as she screamed in release.

Before she opened her eyes again, she took a moment to listen to Daniel's heavy, unsteady breaths and to marvel at the soft warmth of his lips pressed to her neck. Then she shifted, biting her lip as he slipped out of her, and settled back against his thighs and watched him try to form coherent thoughts.

"What is it?" she asked, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

"The." He stopped and stared at her, his eyes soft and unfocused, and he brought a hand up to cup her cheek. "The movie's over."

Sebastiana glanced over her shoulder to see the credits rolling on a dark screen. "So it is. Did you want to watch it again?"

"Uh, no. That's okay." His lips fell into a lopsided grin. "Do you think we can just...lie here? And..."

"Do you want to cuddle?"

"Yeah, if that's alright with you?" It was endearing how hopeful his voice sounded, and the way his entire body seemed to perk up under her.

Scooting back off him, Sebastiana lay on the couch and reached out a hand to invited him down beside her. Her clothes stuck to her skin where she had sweated, but she ignored the minor discomfort until Daniel peeled his own shirt and pants off, and then used his boxers to clean himself up. Then he lay a hand on the edge of her open blouse.

"Why don't you take your clothes off?" he asked.

Sebastiana pursed her lips and almost said something about how they were asking for trouble if they fell asleep naked on the couch in the middle of the living room, but she bit back the remark upon recalling that they had just had sex on the couch in the middle of the living room. She let Daniel help her out of her shirt and skirt but took mercy on him by unclasping the bra herself. While Daniel chuckled at her, she carefully folded each piece of clothing before setting them in a pile on the end table next the the couch, frowning pointedly at his clothes where they lay strewn about the floor. Then she lay back down, settling into Daniel's embrace and breathing in his scent - sweet mate and flowers and sweat.

"You feel nice," he mumbled before his breath evened out, slow and steady against her neck, feathering through the tips of her hair.

Sebastiana briefly considered getting up again to take the disc out of the DVD player before they forgot it in there, but then she decided that not moving sounded like a much more enticing idea. She tried to match her breathing with Daniel's so that both their chests rose and fell at the same intervals, but it soon became too difficult to concentrate on anything more complicated than the warmth of Daniel's skin on hers.

When Martina walked into the kitchen, she wrinkled her nose and frowned at the sleek grouper lying on the counter in front of Luciano, who was sharpening a filet knife while whistling an old, cheesy Forró tune that Martina only recognized because she'd been forced to listen to it so many times.

"Ugh, please tell me we're not having fish again tonight," she whined, sidling up beside him and grimacing down at the grouper, which stared back at her with sightless eyes.

"Again?" Luciano snorted on a laugh. "The last time we had fish was last Friday. That's, like, eons ago."

"No, that's, like, ten days ago. Can't we just have something normal, like steak or something?"

Luciano set the sharpening stone to the side and pouted at Martina, "But I'm making Moqueca Capixaba. You like Moqueca Capixaba."

"I got sick the last time we had it."

"And you like the tomatoes-" he paused and gripped the knife tightly. "Wait, you got sick?"

"When I was showering. I didn't want to...bother you." She shrugged and crossed one arm over her abdomen to grip the other just above the elbow.

"Tinha," he groaned in exasperation, setting the knife next to the fish so he could use both hands to gesture at her, "you should have said something!"

"Yeah, like I'd want you to see me puking." She frowned. "Anyway, I told Lovino, and he said it was probably food poisoning."

It was probably a good thing that Luciano had already set the knife down because from the look on his face, he probably would have dropped it on his foot had he still been holding it.

"F-food poisoning?" He began pacing back and forth before her. "Oh God, my cooking made you sick, didn't it? I always thought it was fine, I mean it always tasted fine to me, but maybe my taste buds are messed up and I'm actually poisoning everyone; my sisters are going to kill me because they taught me everything I know because Papai was completely useless, but I must not have been paying attention and now I'm going to give their cooking a bad name, and sweet Jesus I made you sick-"

Martina rolled her eyes and bit her lip before continuing to talk over Luciano. "But I didn't think it was food poisoning since you never got sick, so I got one of those test thingies from the drug store because I'd already noticed a few other signs and my hunches are rarely wrong."

Luciano paused mid sentence to grab her arms and peer into her eyes. "Test? What kind of test? Querida, are you okay? Tell me what's wrong!"

She bit her lip again, but this time she failed to suppress a grin from spreading across her cheeks, lighting up her eyes and painting a high flush across her cheeks. "Calm down, nothing's wrong, really," she laughs. "Unless you don't want to have a baby."

"Baby? I'm not having a baby-"

Once again he was interrupted, this time by Martina's lips against his. She threw her arms around his neck and nearly sent them crashing into the fish. When she finally pulled away, she whispered against his lips, "God, you are so dense sometimes. What would you do without me?"

"Have a quiet, peaceful life," he answered. "Are you...?"

She nodded, and then squeaked when he suddenly dropped to his knees before her, hugging her waist and pressing kisses to her belly through her blouse. "This is so unreal," he murmured. "Pinch me - oww!"

Rubbing at his reddened cheek with one hand, Martina let the fingers of her other hand slide through his curls. "I take it you're happy?"

"Are you kidding me? I - Jesus - wow!" Luciano nuzzled against her belly. "We're having a baby. We are having a baby! You know what? Screw the fish - I'll put it back in the freezer for another night. We're going out to celebrate."

Martina leaned down to kiss him again and crossed her fingers that he wouldn't start having a nervous breakdown about being a father until after they got back home.

Normally when Luciana walked into the living room, she'd find Martín lounging on the couch watching television or sleeping on the couch or sitting on the couch while hunched over paperwork on the coffee table. Normally she didn't walk in to see an ass sticking up in the air next to the couch, and while it was a really nice ass, Luciana wasn't quite sure what it was doing there.

"Umm, hey, what are you doing down there?" She asked, bending down while trying not to look like she was talking to a child, even if that's what it felt like.

"Mmph, just...my ring rolled...under here," Martín mumbled into the space between the bottom of the couch and the floor. He peered into the crevice and tried to slide a hand into it but couldn't fit anything past his wrist.

Luciana patted his back and said, "Move out of the way, I'll get it for you."

After another few seconds of futile searching, Martín pulled back and stared up at her dubiously. "We should move the couch away from the wall," he said as he stood up, like it was his idea in the first place. Luciana rolled her eyes and squatted down beside the end of the couch without waiting for him to get into position, slipping her hands under the bottom and lifting it a half meter off the ground. For a few seconds, she just stood there until she finally frowned and growled, "Geez, Martín, what are you waiting for?"

When she tilted her head, she caught him staring at her, not at the ground under the couch like he was supposed to, a flush running high on his face, starting at the tips of his ears and ending somewhere below the neckline of his shirt. He bit his lip and blinked at her.

"Martín!"

"Oh, right." He darted under the couch and came out with a sterling filigreed band in the palm of his hand. "Got it."

Nodding in understanding, Luciana inhaled deeply and with all the control she could muster, lowered the couch back to the ground, being careful not to let go until it was no longer suspended in the air. Then she rose and pulled her arms behind her back, linking her fingers and stretching her shoulders and biceps.

"Now that wasn't so hard, was it?" She turned to see Martín was staring again, twisting the band around his ring finger as he gnawed on his lip. "What?"

"How do you...uh...?"

Luciana blinked a few times before guessing at what he was trying to ask. "Strong thighs, I guess? I mean, you're supposed to lift with your legs, so..." And then something clicked, and she felt a slow, heated grin spread across her face. "Do you want to see what else I can lift?"

She took his soft grunt as assent and strode over to him, wrapping her arms around his waist and lifting until his kicking feet hung just past her shins.

Luciana clutched him tighter to her and pressed a kiss to his chest, and then to the soft, bare skin of his clavicle. "You like this, don't you?"

He stilled for a brief second before resting his hands over the curve of her shoulders. "You're lucky I'm confident in my masculinity," he mumbled, leaning down to plant a kiss on the top of her head, breathing in the faint, tangerine scent of her shampoo in her thick hair.

"Sure, 'lucky'." She smiled into his shirt, her abdomen tingling where the hot juncture of his legs pressed against her. One of her hands slid down his back, skimming over his ass until resting just below its curve where it met his thighs. He shivered against her.

"What are you doing?" he demanded in a voice that would have been much more effective if he weren't blushing so much.

"Seducing you with my Amazonian charm. Here," she said, stroking her palm against his thigh through his slacks and pushing it up around her hip. "If you want to help me out here..."

Hiding his face in her hair, Martín wrapped his legs around her. "Are you going to stand there all day, or are we going to the bedroom?" he grumbled.

Luciana shifted her arms to support him and sighed as his warmth surrounded her. "That is an excellent idea, standing here all day..."

"Luciana..."

"You know, you make this so easy for me." She laughed, bright and clear against him. "Fine, Senhor Prince Charming, the royal chambers await you."

Walking while holding Martín was a bit more difficult than simply standing while holding him, but Luciana managed to make it down the hallway and into the bedroom while only smacking them into a wall once. Then she dropped him on the bed and crawled over his thighs into his lap.

"Are you trying to kill me? You nearly gave me a concussion," Martín whined, massaging at the back of his head with one hand.

Luciana kissed the pout off his lips before pulling away for a moment to whisper, "You are such a baby."

"It hurts."

"Hmm, I can think of a few ways to make it feel better."

He opened his mouth to say something else, so she preemptively shut him up with another kiss, and then another and then another.

Oh darling, I loved these, hehe! The Peru/Fem!Chile one is particularly adorable. <3

Just one thing, though.

You know, it's not cool to interrupt football watching timez, especially when it's Brazil - France game (since France can't understand that they should loose against Brazil, God, do they never get the memo?). But WHAT THE HELL, YOU DON'T JUST THROW BRIGADEIROS ON THE GARBAGE, IT'S NOT RIGHT. NOT. RIGHT. THAT WAS A HEART-WRENCHING MOMENT AND I DON'T KNOW IF I'LL EVER BE OK AGAIN.

I DECIDED TO REVIVE MY LJ AND THEN I FOUND THESE AND I JUST HAD TO READ IT, OK.

WELL, I'M PRETTY SURE IT'S IMPOSSIBLE BUT MAYBE LUCIANO WOULD DO ANYTHING TO CHEER MARTÍN UP AFTER ARGENTINA'S LOSS TO GERMANY IN THE LAST WORLD CUP, EVEN IF MARTÍN HAD LAUGHED AT HIS FACE THE DAY BEFORE, YOU KNOW. JUST SAYING.

Man, brigadeiro is like... a sphere-shaped heaven. Or, if you're not in the mood to roll it up, you can eat it with a spoon, while watching your favourite movie, resting the pan on your lap. It's better to do the second option during winter, to warm up. One day you'll eat brigadeiro and you'll know it. ♥